


Sugar, We're Goin Down

by CelestineAzure87



Category: Cycling RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Girlfriends/No Wives, Bathroom Sex, Being Walked In On, Established Relationship, Eventual Smut, Handcuffs, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Jealousy, Kitchen Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Mirrors, Pining, Romantic? Comedy, Safewords, Sexual Fantasy, Unrequited Crush, Voyeurism, Wout talks about having threesomes at one point but not actually doing anything, basically everyone went home happily, blink-and-you'll-miss passing reference to Sepp/Powless, chapter 4 is the smuttiest, it will get very smutty at the end, not very sexy kink negociation, questionable usage for code words, suddenly angsty Wout
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-15 23:06:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29197320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestineAzure87/pseuds/CelestineAzure87
Summary: George's crush is now seemingly out of his reach, after certain Dutch superstar walked into their team and stole his heart. He is just simply unable to move on - until some drastic measures are taken against him.
Relationships: George Bennett/Primož Roglič, Tom Dumoulin/Primož Roglič, Wout van Aert/Mathieu van der Poel
Comments: 10
Kudos: 13





	1. Drop a heart, break a name

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vavafroome (spaceboy_niko)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceboy_niko/gifts).



> Title is from that song by Fall Out Boy. All chapter names are from that one too. 
> 
> First chapter is practically almost-no-smut zone, just George pining, watching Tom and Primož being all cuddly and couple-y from afar, and getting extremely confused. 
> 
> It will get smuttier and smuttier as the chapter progresses, so enter at your own risk. I won't be held accountable for any of consequences of you reading the products of my twisted mind, be it a mini meltdown over the mere mention of Tom's name (sniff sniff), my bad writing, disillusionment over life, or whatever. 
> 
> This one is for ever-so-kind lovely spaceboy_niko - hope you enjoy my attempt for "pining George" :)

They are normally very discreet in their relationship and intimacy department, Tom and Primož.  
  
Of course all those _never-kiss-or-hug-like-that-in-front-of-others_ are originated out of necessity of needing to sneak around and stay quiet as much as possible, but even after they started to show affection to one another openly around the team members, they have kept things rather discreet; it just suits their personalities and professionalism.  
  
Exchanging glances over the dinner table for a second, having conversations about nothing in particular during the training ride, a little bit of hugs here and there if the situation allows; those seems to be just enough for the sweet pair's appetite, who are too busy holding onto, marvelling and discovering each other when they are alone. And because there are so much to discover, they rarely have time for something or someone else.  
  
That, however, does not exactly stop others from ogling over one of them; and one particularly persistent Kiwi has very, very difficult time letting it go.  
  
George always had strong crush on this sweet yet stoic Slovenian teammate of his, from the moment he smiled shyly at him to say hello for the first time, extending his hands towards him for a handshake. Ever since then, he has been trying his luck many times, only to be met with either confused smile or polite bewilderment.  
  
But persistence is his strongest virtue: if he keeps on trying, George believed, surely Primož would eventually discover the the hidden desire for him deep in his heart, and comes around, jumping into his arms, smiling.   
  
Unfortunately for George and his persistent heart, the hidden desire was awakened by a dashing new man who flew into the team, not George himself.  
  
  
Nobody knows for sure exactly when Tom and Primož started the relationship (or bang, in Wout's rather crude words). They are not much of a talker about _that_ department of their lives either, and both of them have reserved characters. They don't like to, or feel necessity to, flaunt their gorgeous partners.  
  
But it's very obvious if one knows when and where to look: Tom's fingers on Primož's arms, how they walk next to each other and their fingers brush, how they always end up standing tad closer to each other than normal close teammates would do at the end of parties. How they look at each other.  
  
Oh, how they look at each other.  
  
In some rare occasions, when their guard go way down after a couple of glasses of wine too many, and if they are in private setting, they slip through a gaze or two - filled with affection, admiration, and sometimes, raw desire.  
  
Sometimes, Tom tucks his companion's stray hair behind his ears. Sometimes, Primož adjusts Tom's untucked shirts or ties quickly, and gives his partner a quick pat on the chest.  
  
"Jesus you two, get a room!" Wout would scream at them with faux rage, or Sepp would give them _tsk tsk_ sound with a wink. Usually the couple give back sheepish look, promptly get separated in more socially acceptable way of interacting each other as co-workers.  
  
Sepp seems to think the whole thing is just _super cute_ , and promptly grabs his phone, reporting what those lovebirds are getting on to somebody over WhatsApp (Powless, George imagines). Wout seems to just enjoy teasing the leaders for a sport.   
  


The couple quietly moves in together during off season. George gets cordially invited to the small housewarming party in Monaco, and glares at the happy couple and their firmly closed bedroom door over white wines. The couple seems very happy and chatty, now at ease with showing teammates that they are, surprise surprise, actually in relationship, and yes, madly deeply in love with each other.  
  
It still doesn't stop George from trying, though. In his pitifully lovesick, obsessive mind, it just indicates he does, after all, stand a chance for Primož. Tom is a man and so is he - _if Primož can be with another man, why not me? It proves he is, or can be, into a man. It can happen. It can be done._  
  
So he persists. But not in some creepy ways (or at least, so he tells to himself) - everything happens in the realm of innuendo, quiet come-on, or standing 2 cm closer to what a normal teammates would. Slightly tighter hugs, touching his arms or hands for a second, when situation allows. 

Funny thing is, the couple shows almost no reaction, visible discomfort, or even much emotion, to those transgressions. Tom never shows any anger or jealously to George, even when he's catches George trying his luck to his partner in person - and Primož himself either just gives back a confused look, and walks away, or smiles politely, brushes him off and walks away, normally towards Tom.  
  
Depending on where they are or what they are doing, Tom's expression towards George at those times changes when it happens. It could be confused or bewildered look, blank stare, or sometimes, a distinctive look of pity. _I'm sorry but you can't have him, he wants me and only me.  
  
_ If Tom is thinking something ruder, he's never shown it, even in his eyes.   
  
In those occasions, Tom dares to wrap his arms around his partner's waist or shoulders, being discreet to be damned. Sometimes he even drop a kiss on his companion's forehead, but never in a possessive, show-off manner - he is doing all of that simply because Primož wants him to. _Don't worry, I'm here, you are in my arms now. I love you.  
  
_ When it happens, Tom doesn't even look at George. His gaze is fixated on Primož, or his expressive eyes are lightly closed, like he's savouring the sensation of holding the most amazing creature in his arms and calling him on his own.  
  
And even George must admit; they look simply stunning together. Not just looks, but how they behave around each other - how Tom gives off pure affection and devotion to Primož by his hands on his shoulder, how Primož whispers something to Tom's ears then exchange glances filled with playfulness and adoration, how they stand around the hilltop off the bike, saying very little or nothing, smiling at each other.  
  
Them standing together, backlit in the sun and all beautiful, could easily pass as an artwork, or could make a scene of an arthouse film, and George sometimes finds himself looking at them to just enjoy the view - more than he cares to admit.   
  
Sometimes, George notices himself staring at Tom's shoulders or cheekbones more than Primož, and he just doesn't know what he wants anymore. 


	2. We're always sleeping in, and sleeping for the wrong team

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George lets his imagination run wild. An accident happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It will get smuttier from here. You are warned.

George is lying on his bed in the hotel room, mindlessly scrolling Instagram and some other shit apps. The bed next to him is still empty, and he suspects he will never see the designated roommate lying there.   
  
When Tom and Primož officially came out to the team about _the nature of their relationship_ , management held a very discreet meeting for the entire team. George can swear it was one of the weirdest meetings he has ever attended in his entire career.  
  
"Our PR team members are all _in the know_ _of the situation_ \- and we support them and you 100%. " A slightly tired looking female PR director in navy blue suits, from somewhere high up in the cooperate team, explained to the team with TED-talk-esque smile. "But as you know, there are freelance people we will employ for regional activities, and of course there will be many people affiliated with other teams and media. We cannot ask them to do the same, for obvious reasons. To make things simple and manageable for the whole team, they are still going to be sharing rooms with you, no special arrangement will be made for them for the accommodation and other related matters. Everything will be kept _strictly professional_."  
  
George has never heard such a weird turn of phrases, just to tell the team _just don't tell others they are fucking, pretend all is like before until we say go ahead, it's all business as usual._  
  
And that's why George is now paired with Primož for tonight to share the room. but the man, nor his bags, hasn't shown up yet - sometimes the couple decide they will be spending time together, and sometimes their original roommates "volunteer" to switch the room for them. Or maybe Tom didn't have a roommate tonight and Primož decided to stay with him, George cannot remember.   
  
The room is quickly getting filled up with darkness. Because of unusually bad weather around the airport are causing some members to arrive late, team meeting and dinner for the evening is now cancelled, and the members arriving early are now just hanging out in their rooms or congregates in the café downstairs. He is all alone, nothing else he needs to be doing. The room is warm, bed is comfortable enough, sheets feeling soft against his skin. He could fall asleep like this - or -  
  
 _In their flat in Monaco, George is lying down on the couch in that spacious living room, relaxing. George's coat and Primož's jacket are now hanging next to each other on the wall, next to their countless photos, all neatly framed._

_"Georgie, dinner's almost done. Come here." Primož' calls from the kitchen. Smiling to himself, George slips off from the couch, and heads to the small kitchen. There he is - in that cute black apron over jeans and grey T-shirt, that one he wears when he cooks for two. Primož looks at him and smiles, reaching out for George.  
  
"Come here, have a taste." Sweet smile. George puts a small spoon, still held by Primož, into his mouth.  
"Hmm, nice."  
"Really? No need for more salt? Pepper?"  
George smiles playfully, and draws Primož closer to him by his waist. "Have a taste yourself."   
They fall into a sloppy, deep, long kiss. Soon, George's body is pressed against the fridge, feeling Primož's warm mouth making a mess all over his body.   
_

_"I want you now." it's an order, not a statement. George nods, too happy to see his shirt and boxer getting ripped off from his body with those long, delicate fingers. George lets out a loud groan when he feels his lover's hand takes himself into the palm, giving it a sweet, torturous squeeze.  
"Oh God, Primož'..."  
"I love how you sound when you are like this, Georgie. I want to hear more. Tell me how you like it." George is on the kitchen counter now. Another sweet, sweet order. Now completely naked, George is now reduced nothing but a paddle of mess, moaning and groaning all sloppy and loud.  
"Oh God, Primož, there, there, fuck it feels so good, your hand, fuck, I love it, please, fuck me now, please fuck me now, fuck me, fuck me, please Primož...."  
A coffee cup, left rather carelessly on the countertop, unceremoniously gets knocked off by George's stretched arm, spreading aroma all over the kitchen.  
  
_A coffee cup? _  
  
Why there's a coffee cup? That's not my thing, where the fuck does it come from?  
  
_ George slowly opens his eyes. Bright, unsexy LED lights and the strong smell of coffee hits him at the same time, and he could not make out what is happening around him for a few seconds.   
  
The smell of coffee is coming from a paper cup on the floor near the doorway. Light is coming from the ceiling, now all on - revealing everything in the room, from his boxer on the floor, painfully hard George himself in his own palms, and a slender Slovenian man on the doorway, left hand still in the position of cup-holding, his eyes slowly blinking.   
  
George and Primož stare at each other over everything between them. George is completely stunned and unable to move - he'd love to let go of himself from his hand, so that at least Primož doesn't have to see him in this state, but he is just unable to move his body, even an inch.   
  
"Er, hello, George. I am sorry, I thought you weren't in the room because it was dark, yeah? So I entered the room, hear my name...."

George just nods, feeling like his neck turned into a broken toy. "Hi Primož. I'm... sorry."  
  
"No worries. I, er, I will go and stay with Tom tonight, I think. Good night, George."  
  
With that polite greetings, Primož disappears behind the door.   
  
Completely unable to process what just happened, George gets up in auto-pilot mode brain, cleans himself up quickly with tissue, picks up a boxer, put it back on again. The door opens again when he was picking up the paper cup, and very grumpy, red-eyed Wout van Aert storms into the room.  
  
"Wout..."  
  
"No, no, George, I don't wanna hear it." Wout throws his bag next to the empty bed. "I got off from the worst fucking flight ever, turbulence all the way after fucking Mathieu beat me again, haven't slept for fucking 40 hours, then when finally I get to doze off on the actual fucking bed, fucking Tom literally dragged me out of the bed when Primož came into the room, looking like a fucking ghost. Tom told me I am now assigned to this room with you. What the fuck did you do to Primož? For God's sake George, what's your fucking problem?"   
  
George tries to speak, but no sound comes out of his mouth, so he shuts it promptly. Wout snatches the paper cup off George's hands, looks into the trash can, sees very incriminating rolls of tissues, and sighs loudly.  
  
"For God's sake, George."  
  
"Sorry."   
  
Wout rolls eyes, sighs again, takes off his shoes and crawl into his bed. "Just shut off the light, will you? And get help. Like, seriously. "  
  
To George's relief, Wout almost immediately falls asleep, leaving George to discreetly clean himself up again and crawl back to his bed, wishing he could just wake up again to see it was some sort of sick nightmare. 


	3. A loaded god complex, cock it and pull it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After things got too awkward for everyone, Tom and Primoz enlist the help of somebody unusual to navigate the situation. They also set up a safe word, just in case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enter Mathieu, who's in it for a laugh and making others uncomfortable for his own entertainment! 
> 
> And it's LOONG! I'm sorry! Kind of! And not very smutty, for now! It will be, from the next chapter onwards!

"You do need to do something about it. By the sound of things, Bennett needs stronger message than being caught red-handed. "

Tom and Primož, sitting next to each other on the bed of their shared hotel room, exchange nervous glances. 

"Yeah, we know, but first thing first -" Tom raises his eyebrow. "May I ask why you are here, Mathieu? And why you are joining this... conversation?"

Mathieu van der Poel, now his left arm around his own boyfriend's waist and sitting comfortably on the opposite bed to Tom and Primož, like this is his own bedroom and not somewhere he sneaked in, flashes grin to this rather expected question.

"Because I can help? I mean, both Wout and I get "propositioned" a lot. And I mean A LOT. Some get obsessive, even. Wout gets those more than me, actually."

Tom's eyes go wide. "Really? But everyone knows you two are..."

"Yup." Mathieu's fingers are now playing with his boyfriend's hair mindlessly. "I don't know why, but it happens all the time, even now. "

"You know why. You are a fucking flirt. And you like to brag. A LOT." Wout growls at his boyfriend. "Some idiots take it as a challenge. You know that full well but you do it anyway." He swats his boyfriend's hands off his head, rolls his eyes in dramatic manner, to which Mathieu happily chuckles. 

"Well, it's just me being my competitive self, I guess. And -" Mathieu puts on that sticky sweet voice, coupled with puppy-eyed expression. "I might be a fucking flirt, but you know who I'm going home with every night, right _honey_?" He pulls his still-pissed boyfriend into a playful, open-mouthed kiss. Wout whines, looks unsure for a few seconds and gives his teammates a side glance, but gives up, half accepting his boyfriend's theatrical advance. 

Next to Tom, Primož twitches quietly. Sensing his partner's deep discomfort, Tom gently takes his left hand into his own hands, letting him lean onto his shoulder. 

"Anyway. So, Bennett." After enjoying the kiss and making the other couple sufficiently uncomfortable, Mathieu turns to face Primož and Tom. His shit-eating grin disappears and replaced with more "serious" look, even though the trace of it is still there around his lips and behind eyes.  
  
"I reckon Bennett needs real wake up call. And not just telling off, something more effective and drastic - the one to make him back off 100%. A lesson, if you may."

"Georgie isn't a bad person, I swear. I'm sure it was an accident. He's just..." Primož starts to protest, but his voice tails off after seeing Wout rolling his eyes at him yet again.  
  
"Rogla, no offence, but George was _literally beating his meat off_ , moaning your name with "fuck me" thrown in for a good measure. Even Seppy and Dylan heard it, and they were in the next room. Remember Dylan practically running away from you two and George during breakfast today, like a scared rabbit or something? And Seppy being very jumpy, whenever you go near him? That's why. God, why didn't _you_ notice the moment you entered the room?"   
  
Primož whines, face all red and mortified. "I was wearing a headphone. And I was tired, the flight delayed so much. But really, George didn't mean it. I'm sure of it. It was an accident."  
  
"It may have been an accident, but it was more like DUI. George really needs to keep it together, so I won't be getting thrown out of my bed again. And needing to fucking timeshare hotel room with you two when Mathieu comes over."  
  
It is now Tom's turn to roll his eyes, but even his stubborn heart needs to admit; Wout has a point, something needs to be done.   
  
"Okey, but... nothing too bad for him, yeah? I just want Georgie to stop, er, trying. I like Georgie a lot, but not like _that_ \- I'm with Tom. He's not Tom." Tom, hearing his partner's protest as a small declaration of love, plants a soft kiss on his partner's neck.

"Of course, we won't be going around beating him up - who do you think we are, motorcycle gangs with Dura-Ace? " Mathieu lets out a hearty laugh, then sits back, face mischievous. "I mean something more... _psychologically effective_."

Tom doesn't like the sound of Mathieu's tone, even one bit. "What do you mean, "psychologically effective"?" Primož looks up to his partner's face, squeezing his hands nervously.  
  
Mathieu beckons two to come closer, like a schoolboy about to share his genius plan for the latest brilliant prank with his classmates. Wout rolls eyes again.  
  
******

"WHAT?"  
"No, no, no, no, no. No way. We aren't doing such thing. Ever."  
  
Tom tries his best to sound firm against what he just heard, but hears himself failing completely. Primož, after letting out rather uncharacteristic scream, just shakes head, muttering something in Slovenian.   
  
"Why? Which bits you didn't like? Doing it in itself, or us taking a little part? If it's the second one, don't worry, we are the most tight lipped ones. "Mathieu's blue eyes twinkle playfully, as he gestures "zip the lips".   
  
"That's...not the point, Mathieu. Not even close. "

"Then is it a part where we MIGHT see you two in birthday suits? Wout saw Rogla - and you- naked so many times already. Are you worried I suddenly can't help myself and jump your boyfriend afterwards? Or Wout gets too tempted and comes after you? Nah, don't flatter yourself. His type is me, not him - or you. " 

"Fuck you, Mathieu."

"You are welcome, Tom. Then let's hear your brilliant idea about exactly how to stop lovesick teammate of yours making everyone uncomfortable by openly lusting after your boyfriend, without having those "come to Jesus" talk with him - you don't sound very keen on that either. And don't tell me he will stop eventually - you invited him to your _housewarming party,_ to show him where you are living together and well, fucking. It didn't stop him then. "  
  
Tom looks away, feeling defeated. Clearly enjoying the discomfort he is causing to his boyfriend's teammates, Mathieu looks down on Tom smugly, seeing Primož to be too out of it for him to enjoy the reaction.  
  
"Wout, your boyfriend is either a psycho, a pervert, or both. Just so you know." Tom sighs.  
  
"Tell me about it. I'm forced to go along with those shits for last 10 years. "   
  
"This, er, "method", Mathieu. Is it really effective? Does it work?" Wout and Tom turns their head quickly to Primož, who is looking at Mathieu intensely.   
  
"Yup. Tried and tested by Wout and me for last few years. "  
  
Primož turns his attention to his younger teammate. "Wout, is that true? Is it really that effective?"  
  
Wout, suddenly feeling embarrassed by the question by his older teammate, stutters a little, but still manages to give him a nod. "Yeah. It failed once, but other than that, really effective."  
  
"Wait, when did it fail?" Mathieu frowns.  
  
"That Ieneos boy! We needed to call bloody Froomy at the end to get him out of our way!"  
  
"Oh yeah, that guy. I wonder what happened to him? Still perving me over Instagram I guess? But anyway, it was just one guy. Other than that, no failure to this day."  
  
Primož closes his eyes, and exhales deeply. "Fine. Then let's do it, yeah?"  
  
"Primož, we really don't have to..." Tom starts, but his partner softly puts his hands on his chest. "No, Tom, I can do it. If you don't like it, no, then let's not do it, but I am okey. I just want George to stop, if it can stops him, I want to do it."  
  
"If you say so...but..."

"You don't want to do it? Then no. We will think about another way. But if you are just worried about me, no, Tom. I can do it, if it's with you." Primož smiles at Tom coyly, gently squeezing his hand. Tom, feeling very unsure, still manages to smile back at his partner, drawing him closer to his chest protectively. 

"Then...let's do it. " Tom turns to the other couple. "Tomorrow?"  
  
Mathieu lets out a gleeful scream. Wout and he will have so much fun over this. Well, mainly himself, but he gets to enjoy making Wout blush and whine, so it's fun for both of them, at least in his mind.   
  
"Good decision making skill there, Rogla. Very persuasive. Yeah, if we do it tomorrow night, I can help out with the "preparation" with Wout."  
  
Feeling defeated and still not feeling 100% sure about the situation, Tom raises a question. "What if something goes wrong, or Primož or I want to cancel everything altogether and get the hell out of there?"  
  
Mathieu raises an eyebrow. "Oh. Maybe we can set a safe word, then? You scream it, then we all know you wanna out, or we scream it, then you know something went wrong. Something you never say during sex. Something short and we all know, so we won't forget it."  
  
Tom gives it a thought. "Sram?"  
  
"It sounds too much like "slam", which MIGHT come up during sex, so, no. " Mathieu turns it down.

"Pinalello? Specialized?" Primož opines.

"Nah, too long. " Wout shakes his head.  
  
"Mavic?" Tom suggests, and the other three nods in agreement.   
  
"Alright. Then Mavic, that is. " Mathieu declares cheerfully. "Alright gents, let's get on the "preparation". "  
  
*******  
  
Later in the evening, Tom and Primož are resting on their bed, enjoying the each other's warmth in quiet intimacy. Mathieu and Wout are now out of the room, having used up their "time share" slot of the room - and undoubtedly plotting something again somewhere, in Mathieu's car.   
  
"Tom?" Primož softly touches his partner's cheek. Tom smiles back.

"Hmm?"

"About tomorrow..." Primož's voice tails off, his gaze averted. 

"You don't want to do it? We can just call everything off then." Tom kisses Primož's forehead, pops himself up with an elbow, and draws him closer with the other arm. "I don't want you to do anything you don't feel OK. I want you to feel safe with me. "

"No, I want to do it...it's just, " his voice drops tone. "can we have our own, er, what was it, "safe word"? You tell me that in my ears and we stop? Just our own, not for Wout and Mathieu?"  
  
"That's...a very good idea, actually. " Tom nods, strangely moved and excited by this little secret they are going to be sharing just between them. "Then we can both decide when we want to stop."  
  
Primož' smiles. "Yes, Tom. We can decide together, you and I. I like that." He stretches his body, wrapping his arms around his partner's neck. And just like that, they fall into a playful kissing session, smiling and relishing the warmth of each other.   
  
"What do you like?" Tom asks, after they get slightly out of breath. Primož cocks his head slightly, thinking.  
  
"The other one is Mavic, yeah? And something short and we can both remember?"  
  
"Yup, that's what Mathieu said. Any ideas?"  
  
Primož' softly chuckles. "How about Bianchi? We will not forget it. And Mathieu doesn't have one. "  
  
"Very good idea. I like your thinking. Mathieu doesn't have one. "  
  
They share a hushed giggle. "Okey, Bianchi. "


	4. Is this more than you bargained for yet?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trap is set. The actors prepare for the stage, the stagehands are on the move, and the directors run the final checks, while engaging in a little fun for themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter needed to be divided into two, because of course. 
> 
> From here, this is just fluffy smut (Tom & Primož) or chaotic smut (Mathieu & Wout), plain and simple. I don't know what my brain is doing, and I don't blame you if you don't either.

**19:56**  
Tom and Primož are preparing for the upcoming "event" in their room.  
  
It's almost eight at night: two hours until "the show", as Mathieu calls it crudely, starts. After the whole day of light practices, meetings and then dinner, Primož and Tom discreetly slip back to their hotel room to have a quick shower, change, and "prepare" for the questionable act Mathieu is putting on for the night.  
  
The bathroom, equipped with slightly dated dressing table and big glass cubicle with two rainforest showers, is well lit and clean, if not a little too plain. But the couple don't mind it much now - it gives them enough space to hang their wardrobes and get ready together.  
  
Primož walks in, with new pair of khaki trousers for Tom and blue button down for himself in his arms. His partner is leaning onto the dressing table, facing the big three-way mirror, finishing up the shave in his fresh boxer and T-shirt. Noticing the attentive look, Tom turns to Primož and grins.  
  
"Do I look OK to you?"  
  
"You always look most beautiful to me, Tom. You don't need to ask."  
  
Tom chuckles and looks down, cheeks gaining slide shade of pink. "I'm flattered. "

"But I always say you are the most handsome man I have ever seen, no?"

"Yeah, I know - I just, sometimes, I don't know, still feel so shy around you. " Tom sheepishly confesses, pink of his cheek is turning to scarlet.   
  
Primož hangs the clothing items on the clothing line, then playfully wraps his arms around Tom's waist from behind.   
  
"My Tom. My handsome, beautiful, sweet Tom. " Snuggling into Tom's back, Primož speaks in low, humming voice, as if he is singing to his companion. "I'm the luckiest man, you know? I'm with lovely, handsome, sweet man like you. And it's a miracle, you love me. You love me so kindly and gently. "  
  
"Primož, if there's the luckiest man, it's me, not you." Tom closes his eyes, holding onto his lover's arms. "You are the most amazing thing ever happened to me in my entire life. Sometimes I can't believe you are in love with me, I can call you mine, I can hold you all I want. "  
  
"Then we are both luckiest men, Tom." Primož playfully touches Tom's cheeks, marvelling his partner's soulful, kind eyes. "It is not a training ride, we do not have to beat each other." Primož laughs, and Tom is in heaven, hearing his laughter so close to his body. Tom let go of his arms, then grabs his waist, turning his body to face himself. He puts his hand under his lover's chin, pushing lightly to let his eyes meet his.  
  
"I love you. "  
"I love you too, Tom. My handsome, sweet Tom."  
  
Closing eyes, they press lips together. Primož's arms are tightly wrapped Tom's shoulders, while Tom's hands caresses Primož's face and soft hair. After enjoying a few minutes of kisses and whispers, Tom lifts Primoz's body by his waist, letting him sit on the dressing table. Primož looks at Tom quizzically.

"I think, " Tom grins at his partner, unable to conceal mischief in his voice. "We should do a dress rehearsal for tonight." 

"Dress...?"  
  
"It means doing the test run. Practice, so that we can do it well on, well, the actual "stage"."

Primož snorts, and Tom joins his laughter with chuckles. "Sorry, it sounds so stupid."

"No, no. "Primož smiles and puts his hand on his partner's cheeks softly. "Let's do it, the rehearsal. We can be alone here, nobody's watching. I want you to touch me before this, er, "show" starts. Then this time is just for us, not for others. And -" he runs his fingers through his partner's thick, dark hair, and smiles. "Practice is very important."  
  
 **19:59  
** Sepp Kuss is on the mission.  
After the dinner wraps up, he takes out his phone, pretending to be reading the message eagerly and not paying much attention to his surroundings, walks towards the entrance. Seeing the back of George's head, Sepp pulls out a neatly folded paper from his phone case, and quickly slips it into George's back pocket as he walks past him.

Standing at the other end of the room and still pretending to read the text, Sepp watches George as he pulls out a paper, unfolds it, gasps, and puts it back into his back pocket again. He opens WhatsApp and quickly types.  
  
 _\- Guys We've Got Him, Wout go get ready_  
 _\- Why did you include Powless in this chat, Seppy?_  
 _\- Because why not :)_  
 _\- Hi Wout! The game is on right!? LMK how it goes! And say hi to Mathieu :D  
  
_ Sepp smiles to himself as he quietly walks back to his room. As much as he is curious about what would happen in a few hours, he has no intention to get himself into trouble by inserting himself to the "show" - or seeing his teammates getting hot and bothered. Quite the opposite, actually. That's why he agreed to help carrying out this weird scheme by playing a stagehand; to keep the peace of the team.  
  
After all, he already has a perfect person to get hot and bothered together if he wants, if not physically for now.   
  
He firmly closes the door behind him, and takes out his phone again to answer the call. "Neils! Yeah, he doesn't suspect a thing..."  
  
 **20:32**  
Mathieu and Wout examines the "stage" and "tools", or at least, that's what they were supposed to be doing, anyway.  
  
"May I ask why you were carrying a handcuff casually in your bag, Mathieu? You left your house before this all went down. And why it's pink and fluffy?" Gaze exchanged.   
"Why are you sounding like Tom?" Kiss deepens.  
"Maybe I should carry one too. Then you will stop getting into those weird shits. " Shirt buttons fly open.  
"Yeah, try that. Maybe you can stop me from beating you - " Another violent kiss.  
"Shut up."   
"Make me. You love me anyway." Another.  
"I said shut up." Yet another.  
"Wout?"   
"What?"  
"I love you." Silence.  
"Wout?"  
"....OK, I love you. I love you so fucking much I allow all those weird shit to happen."

Trousers yanked down, and after that, not much conversation. Just moans and gasps, and kisses.  
 _  
_  
 **20:39**  
Primoz's body is on fire. 

Dressed in soft button down shirt and dark jeans, he is pushed against the three-way mirror by Tom's arms and upper body. Tom is nuzzling his partner's neck, kissing and licking. The front buttons on Primož's shirt are now completely undone, exposing his smooth, milk-white skin, where Tom's left hand is at play, caressing, squeezing and teasing.

"Ah, Tom, there...God, your mouth feels amazing... "

Primož feels Tom's fingers unfastening the zipper of his jeans. Feeling his partner already getting hard beneath underwear, Tom grins against his neck. He runs a thumb against his crotch, drawing a high pitched yelp from his partner. "You like this too?"

Feeling voiceless nod against his arms, Tom moves both of his hands on his partner's thighs. He slowly coaxes Primož's legs apart, then moves to slide his palms down between soft denim and his lover's skin, and lightly tugs down the jeans, exposing the top part of grey boxer. Being satisfied with the effect his action is having on Primož, Tom leans into another long kiss.  
  
"Can I touch?" Tom asks softly. Primož smiles back, his palms cradling Tom's cheeks. Tom watches Primož's eyes losing focus, as his right hand crawls inside of his partner's underwear and take the heating core in his hands, setting the pace he knows Primož gives out the best response.   
  
"God, Tom, ah...it's so good, don't stop, Tom, please don't stop..." Primož whispers between heavy breathing and pleas. Tom senses his partner is being pushed to the edge much faster than their normal lovemaking.  
  
Maybe it's the nervousness about what is going to happen in a few hours in the remote location of this hotel - or maybe it is the foreignness of getting busy in the hotel bathroom, or it could be the very fact that they are both almost fully clothed, even the last part is their intentional choice for this "dress rehearsal". Or maybe...  
  
Tom puts his left hand on his partner's cheek, plants a soft kiss on his forehead, and gently make his head turn to face the mirror. Primož, already nearing his limit and eyes hazy, gasps loudly, gripping Tom's shirt tighter.  
  
"Look at you, all messy and so hot. Can you see how fucking beautiful you are, like this? This is what I get to look at every time I fuck you. The way you react when I touch you like this..." Tom squeezes stronger, and enjoys the sound of his partner gasping louder. 

"T, Tom..."  
  
"You wanna come? Keep looking at you in the mirror. I want you to look at yourself coming undone, so fucking hot." Tom gently pushes down Primož onto the dresser, slides down between his legs, and takes his partner into mouth in one motion. Primož, already hanging with a thin thread, let himself go with cries for Tom after a few moments, grasping Tom's hair and tears in his eyes.  
  
Tom, after joyously drinking everything up, crawls back to Primož, who is still gasping for the air, coming around much slower than usual. He opens his heavy eyelids, looks into Tom's eyes and smiles. "Tom, come here, hold me." Tom happily obliges, as he lifts Primož up in his arms, kissing his face all over.   
  
"I hope I didn't scare you?"  
"Not at all, Tom. I liked it. You were very, very, passionate, but still very gentle when you touched me. I liked that a lot." Primož kisses his beaming partner, and slides down to the floor, placing himself between Tom's legs. Mischievous smile spread across his face as he watches Tom's eyes go wider.  
  
"Now I want to do it for you. And I want you to look at yourself in the mirror, too." 

Tom's eyes glisten as his whole body is consumed with velvety heat. As he lets go the final control of his body, he almost wonders if he should just text MAVIC to everyone, pick his partner up to carry him into the shower, wash each other, go to bed, and just enjoy each others company until the morning comes.  
  
Almost. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter! All set!


	5. Am I more than you bargained for yet?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George is too curious for his own good, walks into a trap, and met with unexpected consequences. Primož and Tom play their part, and get exactly what they wanted. And Wout makes Mathieu taste his own medicine, with a little help from very unexpected co-conspirators.
> 
> +Wout and Mathieu gets a little angsty from the middle part, please proceed with caution+

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's right folks, we are finally here! The Final! Long! Chapter!  
> Thank you so much for you beautiful people, who took time to read this ever-dragging-on drabble. My heartfelt thanks to amazing folks who commented down below, my Leo heart is filled with gratitude.

**21:51  
** _\- G leaving. Heading north wing. Good luck everyone! xx_

Reading Sepp's inappropriately upbeat text for the occasion, Tom grabs Primož's hand.   
  
"He's coming?"

Tom quietly kisses his partner's forehead. "We can cancel now, if we don't want to do it. "

"No, I can go, Tom. but the moment we don't want it, I tell you or you tell me _Bianchi_ , yeah?"

"That's right. _Bianchi_ for us. _Mavic_ for everyone. And..."  
  
Tom abruptly stops when he hears the set of footsteps on the metal staircase. 

**  
22:01**  
George is standing in front of the hotel room, all alone. The room number 201 has semi-thick dusts and cobwebs on it, which makes him nervous. He opens the small paper in his hands again.  
  
_Please come to the room 201 in North wing. 22:00. Door is not locked._  
  
George himself doesn't know what he is expecting, even now. The letter is not signed, but George knows - it must be _him_.  
  
Will he come here alone? Or will he be with Tom? Will they talk to him about the "incident"? Will he get angry? Upset? Or maybe, just maybe, he offers himself to George just for once, for some sort of consolation prize. How far he would allow him to go? Will Tom be there, watching? The last idea made him way too hot in his underwear than he likes, and it startles him.  
  
George doesn't know anymore. But he knows he wants to find out what would happen in the room, even it would bring him some sort of disappointment for him. Exhaling deeply, he turns the doorknob. Like the letter indicated, it was not locked.  
  
Closing the door behind him, George looks around. The room was clearly not in the top condition; the décor is even more outdated than the room the team is staying. It has large balcony on the left, dark bathroom on the right, Queen-size bed, tired-looking couch and even more tired-looking curtains, big walk-in closet with folding doors fully open, and 80s-looking TV. Clearly the wing is only for the height of the holiday season, George thinks to himself.   
  
The room is deadly quiet. Just a distant sound of chatter from the main building, the pool in the court yard making small waves, and trees swaying under in the night breeze. There is nobody in the room, or maybe the entire building is empty.  
  
He thinks about turning the lights on, but stops when he sees the curtain swaying in the wind. The room will be very visible from the main wing or courtyard, if the light is on. He has no idea how Primož reserved the room, but it's unlikely he would like to be seen, or call for the attention.   
  
George walks towards the walk-in size closet. Empty, of course. Just some hangers, a dated ironing board and a trouser presser.  
  
The building itself started to feel eerie.   
  
_Is that letter actually from him? Do I know?_  
  
George suddenly feels like he should leave. NOW. He turns back and walks out of the closet.

"?!?!?!?!"  
  
George screamed as his body is lifted by something behind him, but he failed to make a meaningful sound - silky cloth gets quickly tied around his mouth, only allowing him to make a muffled noise. He tries to kick someone behind him, but could not gain enough momentum in his legs, being lifted in the air.  
  
"Cuff him now!"  
  
George feels his wrists pulled, and something soft was pushed onto it. His hands were yanked behind, then he realises now he is handcuffed to a steal shelf in the closet.  
  
He desperately tries to see his attackers, with no avail - two men in the dark easily overpowers George, like they are very much used to lift and carry heavy things on their shoulders or something. News headline dances across George's overactive imagination; _Kiwi Cyclist Gets Kidnapped in Mallorca, Held for Ransom!_  
  
Then something hits him.  
  
_Since when kidnappers started to use pink fluffly handcuff for their job? Or wear Jumbo Visma TT kit? And moves exactly like Wout van Aert?  
  
_The silk cloth fell off from his face. George decided to call out. "...Wout?"  
  
Kidnapper no.1 stops in motion. "See! I told you, why did you wear that fucking TT kit for this??"

"It's more aero! And not easy to grab! Look, job's well done!" Kidnapper no.2 shouts back.  
  
"...And Mathieu? Is that you?" George's head is spinning now.   
  
One of them flipped the light switch in the closet. Mathieu van der Poel, now grinning ear to ear, leans on his boyfriend, who is very inappropriately dressed in TT kit.   
  
"Ok, so, Georgie. About your weird shit on the other day, which resulted in me being thrown out of my own fucking bed, Seppy and Dylan being weird around Rogla and Tom, and you. "  
  
"Wout, I'm really sorry, I really didn't mean to..."

"Jerking off screaming Rogla's name? And caught by the very man of your dreams?"  
  
George closes his eyes and whimpers. "It won't happen again."  
  
"It better not be. But now, onto the important point. " Mathieu takes over the "speaker" role. "Judging from what Wout here told me, we believe you need a bit of shock treatment. And maybe, getting it out of your system, once and all."

"...wha?"  
  
"Just sit back, oh sorry you can't sit, lean back and enjoy the show. Then you can decide if you want to keep carrying the torch to Rogla. Oh, and try not to make noise too much. If you get caught once again, this time sneaking into the room to watch them fucking, THAT would ruin the team spirit completely."   
  
"WHAT!?"  
  
"I told them they can use this room as, well, "couple's retreat", after we are done. You know how thin the walls are on the main wing. Anyway, We'll let you out once the happy couple is done for the day. Enjoy."  
  
With that, Mathieu flips the switch off, and two "kidnappers" walk out of the closet, closing the folding doors with click. Curtain makes wave again when they closed the entrance door, revealing a spacious balcony with a table and two chairs. _So that's where they were hiding_ , George thinks.  
  
Door swung open again. George stares two familiar figures running into the room, holding hands and giggling, closing the door behind. 

"We need to thank Wout for once. We can get loud as much as we want. " Taller figure holds his companion closer, in front of that queen size bed.

"But we need to be quick, no? Oh Tom, I was waiting for this, all day." Slender figure throws his arms around his companion's neck. 

"This was all I could think about, the whole fucking day. " two figures fall into a deep, wet, passionate kiss. 

  
**22:15**  
George couldn't look away. 

Not just because his crush for a few years now is engaging with intimate acts right in front of him, with somebody else, the fact that they are fully clothed and it creating even more of "forbidden" atmosphere, or almost pornographic scene in itself; it's in how they look at each other, kiss each other, touch each other, hold each other.   
  
George watches as Tom climbs on the top of the bed, grabs a pillow, put it down on the floor, and kisses temple of his companion's head. Primož kneels on the top of the pillow, takes Tom's hand into his, and kisses each fingers. Their eyes are completely locked to each other. 

"Do you need one more pillow? Are you comfy?" Tom's hand is stroking Primož's hair attentively. 

"It's OK. Tom, I want you in my mouth now. I want to make you feel good."

Tom puts his hand on Primož's shoulder. "OK. But don't rush, don't push yourself too hard. Just feeling your tongue on my tip is treat enough for me. God, looking at you like this is making me already so hard, you won't believe it."   
  
**22:17**  
"Oh shit, Wout, your team leader's...very impressive." Mathieu whispers to Wout, making crude gestures with his hand.  
  
They came down from the emergency staircase from the third floor, into the room 201 balcony. They now settled in the perfect spot to watch the action on the bed, and keep an eye on the closet, just in case George went insane and tries to break out from there. At least, that's the reason why Mathieu insisted on returning to the balcony. 

But now, Mathieu has started to feel increasingly uneasy. Wout, now wearing black hoodie over his TT kit, is very, very quiet since they re-entered the balcony - and not just because they don't want to get caught. His boyfriend just does not make any kind of reaction to his words. Not even eyerolls or annoyed sighs.   
  
Something makes him feel very on the edge.  
  
"...Wout?"

No answer. He is just looking, no, staring at two men inside the room, paying almost no attention to Mathieu. Chill runs down his spine, when he noticed that light in his boyfriend's eyes.

"Why are you looking at them like that?"

"Like what?" Wout replies, almost absentmindedly. He never averts his eyes from the couple in the room. 

"Like...A Pervert. Like you wanna fucking join them." Mathieu thinks he managed to conceal the tremble in his voice. He didn't. 

"Maybe I should, later. They are hot, both of them. Maybe George failed because he just went after Rogla. Maybe I can ask them together from the beginning. "

Mathieu cannot believe what he was hearing. Wout never talked about anyone in this way before, it's Mathieu's speciality. "They...they are putting it on. I bet they aren't like that when they are alone." 

"How do YOU know?" Wout laughs dryly, and it startles Mathieu. "God they are fucking hot together, why didn't I notice that before? And look at them, Rogla's natural at cocksucking. Or Tom taught him well. I wonder if Tom'll let me fuck Rogla if I ask nicely? Or let him suck me off, at very least? Tom doesn't look like sharing type, but maybe he'll make an exception for me if I suck him off first. Maybe Rogla and I can have a go at Tom together, or Tom and I tag-team Rogla. That would be fucking hot."  
  
Mathieu feels like the balcony is completely frozen, and he's barely standing on black ice, trying not to fall. He should be the one making his boyfriend blush, embarrassed, jealous. He should be the one Wout is looking at in THAT light in his eyes.  
  
"You are just trying to make me jealous."  
  
"No. You fucking flirt with everyone and everything. I'm way past the jealous boyfriend stage, else I'd be already dead. God Tom's so fucking hot, can you just move over? You are being in my way of the view."  
  
Mathieu throws his arms around his boyfriend's torso. "Wout, don't look at them."  
  
"Funny how you think you can give me an order. You look at others all you want and makes dirty comments all the time." Flat. And to Mathieu's ultimate horror, indifferent. "Why wouldn't I look at hot-as-shit teammates of mine from distance, for once? Like you said, what's the harm in it? You do it all the time. I'd say I'd stand a decent chance with them. And you still haven't given me the reason why I shouldn't look at them. YOU set everything up for this. This is all your idea. "  
  
Mathieu attacks his boyfriend's lips with violent kiss. Wout doesn't even open his mouth.  
  
"Are you done?"  
  
"Why aren't you even looking at me? Look at me. "   
  
After giving Mathieu exactly 5 seconds of blank stare, Wout gives his attention back to what is happening inside the room.  
  
"Happy now? Now would you mind being quiet, for once? Damn, Rogla sounds so hot."  
  
"I don't want you to look at them. Don't look at them." Mathieu gave up concealing panic and desperation in his voice. It made no difference to Wout. He feels something painful is moving around behind his eyes. "Why...why are you being like this now? You love me, I know that. "  
  
"Oh, do I?" Wout sounds almost bored, and it shook Mathieu into his core. "And for fuck's sake, keep it down. The show's going on."  
  
Mathieu just wants to drop down on his knees and cry, plead, and beg, but too afraid to do it - he won't be able to go on, if nothing works to get Wout to look at him again. He grabs Wout's shoulder weakly, resting his forehead there. Still no response.  
  
Completely defeated and losing ability to breath normally, Mathieu let go of Wout's shoulder. "I'm leaving. I don't wanna be here anymore. I'm fucking in love with you, I can't stand it, watching you lusting after others like that. Goodbye, Wout."  
  
Mathieu turns away, trying to head for the emergency staircase. He didn't put his first step, though - warm, powerful hand gripped his wrist from behind. Mathieu turns back.  
  
Wout is now facing Mathieu and looking into his eyes, for the first time since they came back to the balcony. His eyes are now free of that light - it's now filled with raw pain. "Now you know how I feel when you make all those comments. And won't stop."  
  
Mathieu feels numb pain spreading in his heart. "I...I'm sorry, Wout."  
  
"We aren't in an open relationship, or at least I don't want that. I want you to be mine. I don't want to let others have you, or make them think you are OK with it."

"Trust me, I'd never -"

"Just seeing you behaving like that with others is painful for me, even there's no actual cheating, or you really don't mean it." Wout touches Mathieu's lips by his fingertips, with sad smile. "Because I love you. And I loved you for fucking more than 10 years. I behaved like I was just annoyed, but I was hurt. I'm sorry I wasn't honest with you."  
  
Big drop of tears fall down from Mathieu's eyes. He buries his face on Wout's shoulders, unable to stop tears.   
  
"I'm so sorry. I love you too. And I really don't want anyone else. I don't want to share you with anyone. I just wanted to make you jealous. Just hearing you talking about them made me go crazy. I won't do that, ever again. I'm sorry I hurt you. Will you forgive me?"  
  
"I told you, Mathieu. I love you. And thank you for apology. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you I'm hurt. We are all good."

Mathieu feels Wout's hands squeezing his shoulders gently. Gentle kiss on his neck follows. He closes his eyes, savouring the warmth. It feels like coming home from winter storm outside. _I'm still with him. Thank God, he still got me. He's so warm._  
  
"Come on, let's go back to our room. It's getting cold. We can use Tom's room, they won't be coming back tonight." Wout smiles as he feels quiet nods on his shoulder.  
  
As Mathieu climbs down the emergency staircase, Wout slides his hands in his pocket, opens WhatsApp, selects a word, and hit send. _Shock treatment is right_ , he thinks to himself. _Shock treatment is right._

 **22:45**  
Inside of the room, Tom catches the flashing message notification on the phone, casually thrown on the bed. He throws a quick glance on the notification, grinning. He cranes his neck to kiss Primož's ear. His partner looks him up with certain look in his eyes, and Tom nods without a word. Faint sign of laughter is already creeping up on his lips. 

"Orbea?"

"Orbea."  
  
Primož almost lets out an audible laugh. Tom quickly covers his lips with his own.

"I'm proud of Wout, Tom." Primož whispers to his partner, as they part. 

"Yeah, me too. Now let's just end this fucking weird show, once for all."  
  
**22:46**  
George is sure his heart is stopping. The couple, now suddenly off the bed, are fast approaching the closet. _They know I am in here? What the fuck is happening?_ He blinked slowly as the closet door is thrown open.   
  
Primož flicks the switch on. Tom goes into the closet, pats George on the back, and proceed to unlock the handcuff. "Next time Mathieu pulls weird prank with handcuffs, those toys usually have panic unlock switch built in. Wiggle around and it will come off."  
  
"Good to know."  
  
George's legs turned out to be a little wobbly, so Tom and Primož walks him out of the closet. Both men are polite enough to not to comment on very obvious stain on George's trousers, which George is enormously thankful for.   
  
The couple tries to lead George to bed for a sit-down, but both feels very weird about it at once before even making a move, so they guide him to the couch. Tom goes into the bathroom to fetch a glass of water for George, while Primož goes out of the room to get Tom's bag from the room upstairs.  
  
Tom comes back to George first. George receives the glass and drinks up. 

"Thirsty?"

"You bet. You two...well, I don't know what to tell you, but, well done."

Tom snorts. ""Well done"?"  
  
"You know what I mean. You are one lucky bastard, Tom."  
  
"I know. I sometimes can't believe it myself."  
  
"And he's one lucky bastard to have you, don't forget that part."  
  
"...Thank you. I didn't expect to hear that from you, Georgie."   
  
Door flies open. Primož walks up the couch in with small black bag in his hand, and sits down next to George. "Hi, Georgie."  
  
"Rogla, before you say anything, I'm sorry about that...well, fuck, everything, really, but especially for that accident. I don't mean to make you uncomfortable. And fuck, everything before. I really, really liked you, you know?"  
  
"Georgie, thank you." Primož smiles. "I liked you too, but, well, not in that way, yeah? But I still really like you. You are a nice person, and you are my friend."  
  
George's eyelids flatter a little, as if his lashes are chasing the trace of tears. Tom quietly pats his back.  
  
"And I guess I didn't want to let it go, because you are bloody amazing. But I knew I couldn't go between you two. I knew, but I tried anyway. It's fucking embarrassing. I'm really sorry."  
  
"No worries, Georgie. We can be friends still, yeah? I like you. Tom likes you too. Just not in that way."  
  
George nods. As far as the end of the crush, this is one of the nicest one, for sure - even though the process was a bit too tortuous for his liking.   
  
"I'll apologise to Seppy and Dylan tomorrow. And Wout."  
  
"Wout is OK, he handcuffed you on the shelf. That's bad. Maybe worse. So no worries about Wout." Three men share a good laugh.  
  
"And he got what he wanted." Tom smiles, and Primož nods. "Orbea."  
  
George looks at them quizzically.   
  
"Well, Wout was getting upset with Mathieu. He's too flirty sometimes, yeah? Wout didn't like that, and he, er, decided to use me and Tom to correct that."  
  
"That last part sounds incredibly wrong, Primož, but I think George can get the picture. Wout and I made code word for us. Orbea means "Everything Went Well, We Worked It Out, Don't Come Back To Your Room Because We Are Gonna Using It"."  
  
"Wait, there's more?"   
  
"Yeah. Trek means _We Are Done, Broken Up, Buy Me Vodka_. Giant means _Beat Stupid Mathieu To Death, I Don't Care How Or With Wha_ t. Kona means _Call Immediately It's Too Complicated To Explain_. "  
  
"Jesus fuck, how many did you made?!"  
  
Another light laughter. All three of them are feeling like heavy burden is lifted off their back - it all flew away into the Spanish sky.   
  
George stands up, bids goodnight to the couple, who are staying in the room until the morning. As he walks back to the main building, George started to wonder how to say sorry to Sepp, without giving away too much of today's event.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was planning tiny bit of Wout/Mathieu but oh that escalated quickly
> 
> I think I should legally change last my name to Long because it's apparently part of my DNA now 
> 
> The soundtrack of for the last part is "Shape of My Heart" by BSB, because my brain went haywire like 3 months ago and it gives off sparkles in strange colours here and there unexpectedly
> 
> I have lotsa more weird stories (all established relationship/fluffy and-or smutty one, I am horrible at angst/dark) in the store - gimme the request & I'll give it a best shot! Discord in the profile :)


End file.
